The Flash: A stop in Jersey
by Writrzblok
Summary: Jay Garrick runs by Jersey for a bite to eat, but finds he must stop a madman from slaughtering people in a bank


Disclaimer: Flash is a property of DC Comics.

"A stop in Jersey"

It was a cakewalk, he thought, passing by the Metropolis city limit sign on his way to New York City. He'd just finished a case with Superman wrapping up a Thanagarian weapon-smuggling ring that ran between the two cities. He was trailing them to Metropolis when the Justice Society had alerted the Justice League of the coming shipment. Naturally, with Metropolis being His town, Superman was ready and waiting to intercept.

He could be drawing social security at his age, but Jay Garrick never felt younger except at speeds approaching Mach 1. Running was always his favorite activity, even as a youth. "Jay was the first person out of Sodom when the fireballs hit," as Captain Marvel used to say. The comment, even as a joke to which only Stargirl got a chuckle, struck him as a strange thing for a man of his age and stature.

However, never let it be said that Jay Garrick didn't have a sense of humor. Later that same day, the Earth's Mightiest Mortal sat down on the Earth's fastest whoopee cushion. A little out of date, sure, but Captain Marvel's face was as red as his costume. The rest of the team had a hearty laugh. Jay, of course, stood back shooting a smile and a wink to his teammate.

They said Jay Garrick's smile could light up space brighter than any star. It was one of those smiles, like Superman's, that seemed to make one think that everything was alright and that life is still enjoyable after all is said and done. Not that Jay hadn't been through his own shares of trials and tribulations, just that he always seemed to come out smiling and footloose (heh). Jay never seemed to find anything magical about such a simple facial gesture. "It's only a smile," he'd always say, "It's just manipulation of muscles on my face forming a pleasant sight, nothin' more." Oh, but what a sight it was to those he'd rescue or fought beside.

Stomachs growl even at the speed of sound. His super-fast metabolism worked off breakfast early. He'd have to stop for a bite soon. Luckily, The New Jersey turnpike was coming up and he happened to know of a spot where one can get, as someone once said, "The best slab of processed meat on bread this side of the shore." Joey Salvano's hot dog stand at the corner of Ernest and Elm would surely hit the spot in Jay's humble opinion. Making a slight detour on the highway, he knew the street like the back of his hand.

Joey Salvano, a balding, portly man of 46, held out a hot dog for a customer, yet his attention seemed drawn toward the radio. He barely noticed Jay pulling up to the stand. Then again, Joey never noticed Jay arriving. "Jay, glad you're here; something's going down, some kind of whack-job's interrupting my sports," the vendor said, turning up the radio.

"Authorities are in crisis as to the breaking situation at Shoreside National, a bank on the east side. A madman known only as "The Banner," described by police as a Caucasian male with a marine-style buzz-cut and American flag as a cape in khaki pants and military boots. He currently has thirty people, 21 employees and 9 civilians among them at gunpoint." Jay left in a sharp breeze, unwittingly forcing Joey to spill a hot dog on a lady's blouse. He figured, the hot dog could wait a few minutes.

Cutting corners, dodging pedestrian after pedestrian in his path, Jay managed to spot the scene within minutes. Breezing by the police detour, he stopped ten feet from a police surveillance van when a man dressed in SWAT gear held up his gun and said, "FREEZE!" Other cops instinctively whipped in similar fashion. To a man like Garrick, they would've seemingly taken weeks to reach those stances.

"Stand down, Dammit!" a hoarse voice shouted. A slender aged man holding a bullhorn stepped out from the van and said, "Jay Garrick, The Flash. I'm Lieutenant Frank Houser. To what do we owe the honor?"

"Heard you boys are having some cash flow problems. So what's with this guy, Banner?" Jay said with a nod, folding his arms.

Maintaining a serious glare through a smirk in the corner of his mouth, the Lt said, "Nut-job who came on the scene when Gotham was No-Man's Land. He claims he's the one who'll save the country from the liberal hordes or some nonsense. Anyway, he says he'll kill all the hostages if the President of the United States declares this nation 'One nation under Money.' The insane don't really need a reason, do they?"

"Insane or not, he's got innocent people in there and he needs to be taken down," Jay returned the glare up into Houser's eyes, throwing that magic smile along just for kicks.

"He's no dummy, this guy. He keeps away from the windows, and makes sure his head's protected, got a SWAT helmet or something over it. Sharpshooters don't have a clear shot with that thing on. He's already killed the three bank guards in there."

"Tell your sharpshooters to cool their jets," Jay said tilting his classic helmet over his forehead, "I think I can solve this problem without any other casualties. Give me ten minutes. Let me scout the perimeter."

"Look, sir, No offense, but we've got our best negotiators in there right now and they've been at this for hours. What can you do in ten minutes that they can't?" A SWAT cop said with a chuckle.

Jay had met people like this before, more and more as the years passed. First thing people would notice about him wasn't the lightning bolt on his red shirt or the helmet or even the fact that he can keep pace with an F-16. People always seemed to notice the gray streak and wrinkles first hand. The tone in the cop's voice reeked of _you old fart; you'll likely pull your hip trying to rescue those folks. Then we'd probably have to bury your sorry ass. Leave the hero stuff to us young bucks, grandpa. Okay?_

"Son," Jay said, the smile never leaving his face, "I could put you on your ass and finish this sentence at the same time," Sure enough when Jay finished, the same smarmy SWAT officer was flat on his butt, staring up at The Flash. "Ten minutes is all I need, Lieutenant. If you aren't confident about me, I'll understand."

Stunned by the display of speed, Lieutenant Houser said, "Mr. Garrick, I'm confident to the point of egotism about you, so go on and do what you need to. But Ten minutes, and we're taking back the reigns."

"Well, sir, if all goes well, I'll hand them and Banner to you personally," Jay remarked, ever smiling brightly as he vanished into thin air.

The Shoreside National building was one story tall, on a corner, letting the police set up a near perfect blockade. Its granite outer covering went so far undamaged. However, many door-sized windows were broken into M&M-sized pieces. Jay sped up his molecules enough that he could pass through a fire exit door.

Jay nimbly stepped towards a corner overlooking the main hall. He hated sneaking around, it was so…slow and time consuming. To be honest, he didn't know how Bruce and others like him have the patience. But the Flash knew that stealth was important in reconnaissance work. Peeking from around the corner, he noticed the teller booths were empty. Banner had them all together in the front room, Jay figured. With a sharp zip, Jay snuck underneath the booth to get a close look.

Banner, like the radio said, as a large Caucasian male, marine-style buzz-cut hair, khaki pants and military boots. Jay gritted his teeth when he saw Banner telling a screaming child, "SHUT YOUR WHINING, PAGAN SPAWN OR I'LL SHOOT YOU FIRST!" Also burning Jay to no end was the fact that this idiot wore Old Glory like a cape; who did this fool think he was? It didn't matter, he was going down…Hard. Seeing the wide open front doors made Jay smile once more, and this time, even he could feel how good it is when he does.

Banner stood among the crowd, holding an AK-47 in one hand. To his scared captive audience, it sure seemed like he could handle an assault rifle with one hand. His smile let everyone know "nothing's alright, it wasn't, isn't, nor ever will be." If Jay Garrick's smile lit up space, Banner's smile returned it to darkness.

Looking around, he kept count of the fifteen to his left; the other fifteen were sitting in a group to his right. With the fervor of a minister hopped on speed, he shouted, "All of you are guilty of worshipping the god called money! It's the reason busybodies jumped off of buildings and ate guns in the Depression! It's why gas prices are so high! Money's your god! I want you all to say it! Admit it! Confession's good for the soul, if you heathen bastards have them, that is!"

"Money's our god," the crowd chanted lowly, visibly terrified of the maniac in front of them. Banner turned to the right to see fourteen hostages, good, all accounted for, he thought. To his left, ten hostages remained. He started to notice that his hostage population was dwindling slowly.

"What the hell's going on?" he shouted, turning his attention to the front door, "I TOLD YOU COPS NOT TO COME IN AND START TAKING MY PRISONERS!" Whipping back around, five more on both sides had vanished. "I swear," Banner said, waving his gun at a five-year old girl, "I find one more person gone, I'll blow her head clean off and drink the blood that comes out!" Banner turned his head, hoping to see the frightened child's face. Instead, his met with an empty front room, "NO!" he said, aiming his machine gun toward the front door, at the cops.

Time stood still for guys like Jay Garrick, Barry Allen and especially Wally West. He'd plucked every single hostage from Banner's grasp without much effort. Banner was no preparing to fire on the police. The grin never left his wrinkled yet vigorous face as he swiped the AK-47 from the madman's grip.

Banner pulled what he thought was the trigger, except the gun was missing. Frantically turning around, he looked down to see his weapon completely dismantled. Jay Garrick held out the trigger, saying, "You were looking to pull this part, weren't you?"

"I don't know what the hell you think you're doing geezer…but you just made the biggest mistake of your life interfering in my mission to save America!" Banner shouted with spit hanging from his mouth as he slammed his fists together.

Jay shook his head and said, "Boy, you're loonier than Daffy Duck with MPD." He wanted to have some fun with this moron. Besides, Jay still had nine minutes left on his ten minutes of free reign from Lt. Houser. "You're not hurting anyone else today, Banner. I guarantee it."

"Guarantees are for politicians, car salesman and celebrities, SHOULD'VE QUIT WHEN YOU WERE AHEAD, BEN AFFLECK!"

"Ok, I'm gonna have to end this before your insanity rubs off on me," said Jay, disappearing behind Banner. The madman swung a backhanded fist at him, but Jay ducked and followed up with rabbit punches and a left jab. Banner threw a right cross, but Jay sidestepped and threw three knees into Banner's gut and punched him twelve times in his ribs. He finished it off with a kick to Banner's butt, sprawling him across the red-carpeted floor.

"I'm gonna make you dance, old man!" Banner shouted as he stood, pulling a dead guard's security revolver from his pants. As he fired, Jay increased his speed to catch the bullets in one hand. He switched them to his other hand and flicked them like stones at Banner's feet. To Banner, it seemed like he was shooting at his own feet, making him high step and prance. One final bullet clipped Banner's hand, making him drop the gun.

Jay raced around Banner, grabbing the flag cape and wrapping it around him. With a hard punch to the stomach, he doubled the madman over. With his speed, he freed Banner from his red, white and blue cocoon, sending him spinning into the air. The defeated maniac made a hard landing face first on the pavement in front of the waiting police. "FREEZE, BANNER!" Lieutenant Houser said over his bullhorn. Since he was unconscious from smacking the street, Banner had no problem freezing.

Jay Garrick walked out of Shoreside National with his head held high. Another job well done, he figured. Lieutenant Houser made a stride, smiling wide and holding out his hand. Shaking the hero's hand, he said "Great work, Mr. Garrick. We really appreciate you taking time to help us out. What are you doing in Jersey anyway, if you don't mind my asking?"

Jay replied, "Well, to be honest, I just stopped to pick up the best slab of processed meat on bread this side of the shore."

Houser grinned and chuckled, "I know just what you mean. We got the bastard, thanks for everything, Mr. Garrick."

"Would it kill you to call me Jay?"

"Sorry, sir; mama said the day I don't call an elder 'Mr.' is the day she comes and skins my ass."

With a two-fingered salute, Jay laughed, "I hear that. Well, you take care." Without another word, he disappeared once again.

Jay had swung by Joey Salvano's on the way out, leaving behind a ten, picking up three hot dogs. They were consumed within seconds, and his stomach seemed to subside a little. He made his way back onto the highway towards NYC and would arrive there in almost no time at all.

"Jay?"

He barely heard a voice chiming in his earpiece. Slowing down just enough to make the noise audible, he recognized Mr. Terrific, his JSA teammate and chairman on the radio. Weaving between cars in traffic, he said, "This is Jay, Terrific, tell Power Girl I'm not turning around and getting her Kyle Rayner's autograph…or his ugh boxers."

"I'm afraid it's a little more serious than that," Mr. Terrific said, his voice low and forceful, "Ok, let me be frank, it's a lot more serious than that. We need you here yesterday."

The end


End file.
